


there's something dark inside of me

by gladdecease



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Gen, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-07 13:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladdecease/pseuds/gladdecease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets possessed on a Thursday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets possessed on a Thursday.

Stiles gets possessed on a Thursday.

Later, he'll make a joke about it.  He'll grin and say, "Never could get the hang of Thursdays," but the smile won't reach his eyes, and for a moment Scott will allow himself to viscerally hate _everything_ that led to this, himself included.

But that's a while from now, best not to dwell on it just yet.  Oh, don't worry, we'll get to that part of the story eventually, when Things have been dealt with (except for the Unspoken Things, which will not be dealt with for some time after that), but for now let's return to the point, which is: Stiles gets possessed on a Thursday.

No one notices for two full weeks.

Primarily this is due to the creature being very good at what it does.  It possesses Stiles while he's alone and not expecting company for hours, giving it plenty of time to delve into Stiles' head and pull out all of his tics and habits, learn them by heart and imitate them perfectly.  By the time Sheriff Stilinski pulls into the driveway with dinner sitting in the passenger seat, it could fool someone who's known Stiles his whole life.

It does just that, sitting across the table from Stiles' father and talking about his day like normal while inside his head Stiles begs and pleads for freedom, for mercy.

You see, that's the thing about being possessed.  You can see and hear _everything_  that's being done with your body, while being utterly helpless to stop it.  And while sometimes possession is benevolent, resulting in nothing more traumatic than a funny story about ghosts throwing pots and getting closure with ex-girlfriends, more often it's not fun at all.

For Stiles, it's really, really not any fun at all, because while the thing possessing him is stuffing its face with curly fries, it's also mentally listing off all the ways it could torture and kill his father with only the silverware on hand.  Not because it particularly hates his father.  Not because it's going to kill him later and needs to come up with ideas.  Just because it's bored.

It's bored, so it tells Stiles in great detail all the ways it could kill his father, if it were so inclined.

This is the kind of creature that has stolen Stiles's body.

Just to give you an idea of how those two weeks are going to feel for Stiles, let's perform a little thought experiment.  Take the worst bully you ever knew - and don't front, we both know you've been bullied.  Yours may not be the "jock overdosing on Haterade" cliche, yours might not have even been aware they were doing it, _you_ might not have been aware they were doing it at the time, but you've been bullied.

So.  Take the worst bully you ever knew, and imagine their voice saying all the cruelest things they ever did, all the things you were afraid they might say, taunting you and mocking you and absolutely  _humiliating_ you.  Imagine that voice being set on a loop, shoved directly in your head for your listening enjoyment twenty-four/seven.

Keep that sound playing.

Now, imagine that you've been placed in a dark room, strapped into an uncomfortable chair.  There's a rusty, metal contraption holding your eyes open so that you can't look away, and being projected on a screen before you is your life.  Well, your life, starring _that thing_ as you.  It does a convincing job of it - everyone is fooled, and if you didn't know better you'd think this was something that happened weeks ago.  Because it all looks so normal, seems so familiar.

But every once in a while, it _slips_.  Somebody's shoulder gets dislocated at lacrosse practice because "you weren't looking where you were going."  A broken beaker causes a friend's hands to get burned by acid; _clumsy_ you.  A dropped knife nearly cuts someone's toe off.  Oops.

And when that happens, the loop of humiliation is broken by _that thing_ talking to you, telling you how much _worse_ it could have been.  How easily that dislocated shoulder could have been a snapped neck, how that acid could've gotten in her eye, how that knife could've sliced his foot wide open.

How it's such a _shame_ that it missed.

But don't worry, it won't actually happen.  _That thing_ has _plans_ for you, and those plans mean it can't be caught in the lie just yet.

And before you can really think about just what that means, the bully's soundtrack is back on, louder and worse than before, and you're forced to watch the movie of your life play out with all these near misses happening around everyone you love.

Imagine that, for two weeks straight.

Or don't; you'll probably sleep better at night that way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone almost notices something is wrong with Stiles.

So, where were we?

Ah, yes.  Stiles, having been possessed by a creature with a taste for violence and torture, spends two weeks being violently tortured inside his own head before anyone realizes something's wrong.

In their defense?  The thing is really good at impressions.  Take, for example, the first time someone _almost_ notices something is wrong, the day after Stiles is possessed.

(Now, I know how you people think.  You've got some preconceptions coming into this story, and you know what?  That's totally understandable.  If I were in your shoes, I'd be the same way.  I had some similar expectations at the time, actually - but that's for later.  For now, just trust me when I say that the person who almost notices?  Is not who you're expecting.)

Every morning, Scott and Stiles meet up outside the school.  On a typical day they'll exchange greetings, complain about homework, panic when they realize they're each talking about assignments the other had forgotten to complete, frantically switch papers and copy what the other's done, and just barely make it to class before the bell despite being on campus fifteen minutes early.

The creature possessing Stiles has little patience for such antics, and rather than risk the temptation to stab Scott through the neck with a pencil, completes all the necessary assignments the night before.  It's all really simple stuff, when you don't have to struggle to concentrate through the buzz of ADHD or the exhaustion brought on by complications of lycanthropy, and were it possessing anyone else the creature would leave Scott to his failing grades.

But it _is_ possessing Stiles, who is nothing if not a good friend, so it lets Scott borrow the completed assignments.  Standing guard so no teacher will catch Scott in the act, the creature passes the time by looking from person to person, identifying them from Stiles's memory, and coming up with an alliterative death to suit.

The temptation to stab Scott is still incredibly strong, and it has to resist _somehow_.

Lynched Lydia.  Decapitated Danny.

Scott returns the assignment with maybe a minute before the bell.  They make it to class barely in time - (Flayed) Finstock is already starting today's lecture - but as they sit down Scott still takes the time to whisper, "Hey, Stiles?"

"What?" the creature hisses back, distracted; it's trying to come up with something for Jackson but all the good ones actually start with a soft g.

"Are you okay?  You smell kind of... weird."

To Scott's eyes, Stiles freezes in place for a moment before turning an affronted look on him.  Totally normal behavior, given what he said; Scott's already wincing at his poor choice of words and looking to rephrase.

In fact, that moment's pause is the creature controlling Stiles panicking for a moment, because it has not anticipated this.  Werewolves do not interact with its kind, as a general rule, and as such there is no precedent here.  While the creature has up to now considered that a good thing, the lack of knowledge giving it more freedom to work in plain sight, the ignorance goes both ways.  It was not and could not be aware of the fact that the act of possession leaves behind a residual odor, too slight for human noses to detect, that Scott has picked up on.

Its panic lasts only a moment, before it recalls that while Scott can be suspicious, he's also very loyal once his trust is gained.  This need not be the deal breaker it appears to be.  It turns an affronted look on Scott, saying, "I smell _weird_?"

Scott, wincing, says, "That's not what I meant."

The creature pushes on.  "Are you saying I _stink_ , Scott?  Because I know I'm a teenager, and that we tend to give off a certain _odor_ , but that hurts, man, it really does."

"It's not that you _stink_ , you just... smell different.  Strange."  Scott's face contorts into a grimace of frustration, because he knows that phrasing isn't any better.  But he doesn't have the words to explain it, the smell that makes his nose itch and reminds him of both eggs and their chemistry lab two weeks ago.

The creature places a hand on Stiles's heart, tugs at the shirt above it.  "Hurts me _deep_ , Scott.  Right here."

"I'm sorry, Stiles," Scott pleads.  "I don't know how to say it that doesn't sound... _mean_."  The creature huffs, turns around and crosses Stiles's arms, feigning insult.

Before Scott can try to explain, Finstock interrupts.  "McCall!  Bilinski!"

Scott blinks up at the front of the room.  "Yes, coach?"

"If you're done with your little argument, do you think we could get back to economics?  Is that alright with you?"  He gestures at the board with his typical barely contained rage.  "Is that _okay_?"

Scott sinks down in his seat, mutters, "Yes, coach," and is sufficiently distracted for the remainder of class by the lecture that the creature silently breathes a sigh of relief and begins adjusting its plan to account for this werewolf complication.

But you see?  If you didn't have me telling you what's going on inside Stiles's head, you wouldn't know anything is wrong with him either.

(And, for the record?  Jugular Exsanguination Jackson.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The creature possessing Stiles does its best to adjust for the werewolf complication.

The issue is this: Scott has smelled something different about Stiles when there is nothing different about him, besides being possessed.  No one else has smelled anything, so therefore, the thing possessing Stiles reasonably concludes, only werewolves can smell this difference.  The obvious solution, if the goal is to remain unnoticed (which it is, and will be for some time yet), is to avoid all contact with werewolves.

Unfortunately, Stiles has so inextricably bound his actions and relationships to werewolves that doing this would be significantly out of character, possibly enough so that the deception would be noticed anyway.

Scott himself has been essentially dealt with, since he trusts Stiles and will believe anything said by someone wearing Stiles's face.  And Derek's pack is young, and new to their powers.  With any luck, they won't realize what they're smelling.  And if the creature possessing Stiles isn't as lucky, none of them are as close to Stiles as Scott.  They don't have any reason to see a strange smell as something out of the ordinary.

Still, the creature considers, best not to chance it.  A stronger scent should theoretically overpower whatever odor possession creates.  With that in mind, it spends a few days experimenting with aftershaves and colognes, mockingly asking Scott if the stench has faded after applying each new combination.

As it turns out, the Axe line of body sprays and deodorants is very effective at masking the smell of possession.

There's still the matter of Derek.  He's a born wolf, and from the little he's spoken of it to Stiles (and to Scott, who always tells Stiles eventually), his parents taught him a few things about the supernatural beyond basic pack interactions before they died.  He may not know _what_ it is inside Stiles, but he won't be as easily fooled.

Luckily, the relationship between Derek and Stiles is and has always been tenuous at best.  Derek doesn't trust easy, and refuses to interact with Stiles in situations where he doesn't have the advantage.  That usually involves making threats on his life, a plausible enough reason for Stiles to dislike his company.  Accordingly, the creature possessing Stiles spends a few conversations complaining to Scott about the last time Stiles interacted with Derek, which ended not just in pain for both parties but with a lack of dignity on Stiles's part and gratitude on Derek's.  After a week of this, it feels like a natural conclusion to Stiles's bitterness for him to vow never to help Derek again.

Scott, having sat through such conversations before, nods sympathetically and agrees to act as a go-between, redirecting Derek should he attempt to contact Stiles.  That settled, the creature can finally focus on things besides werewolves, like developing its plan of attack properly.

Keeping a low profile is going to make any meaningful forward motion difficult, but the potential benefits of being in Stiles's shoes should more than make up for that, in theory.  For the moment, it will just have to work outside the scope of Stiles's typical social network.  Since he's the sheriff's son, that means travelling a not insignificant distance from Beacon Hills.  A bit inconvenient, but doable.

A story of a weekend research trip to Scott (called a college tour to Stiles's father) is all the opportunity it needs.  It leaves school an hour early Friday, complaining of stomach pain, and heads for the nearest big city, where Stiles will be anonymous among the young, desperate, lonely crowds.

This has the side effect of leaving Scott partnerless in chemistry for that day's lab.  He spends five minutes staring mournfully at Danny until he caves and agrees to partner with him, who relegates him to measuring chemicals out on a scale while Danny mixes them, heats the mixture, and records the resulting reaction.  Things go smoothly for most of the class, until the third to last mixture, which has Scott sniffing the air, smelling something oddly familiar.

"What's _in_ that?" he asks, staring at the yellow crystals at the bottom of a test tube.  Danny, for his part, doesn't understand what Scott could be smelling; compared to the original compounds, the product is basically odorless.  But Scott has had a strange sense of smell for ages, so he puts it out of his mind and passes his notes to Scott, tapping a finger on the chemical reaction he just performed.

Scott's brow furrows and his nose wrinkles, confusion contorting his face.

"Sulfur?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott gets suspicious.

The creature possessing Stiles has a very productive weekend in the big city.  We won't get into the details of what went on just yet, but suffice it to say that Stiles is now not only wracked with psychological pain, but guilt as well.  It will take a lot of conversations about hypotheticals with his father (and, eventually, a therapist) for Stiles to recognize that awful things done by and with his body are not his fault.  For the moment, though, it seems perfectly natural to blame himself, and the pain that causes him only brightens the mood of the thing using his body.

It drives to school Monday morning, whistling to itself, and wonders how long it will have to wait before another such trip doesn't seem suspicious.  After... "accidentally" nearly running two bikers off the road ("Sorry man, didn't see you there!  You know, you should really think about investing in some safety lights!"), it decides a month should be more than enough time, and plans to gush about the school it visited the next time the sheriff is home for a full meal, just to establish the desire in his mind.

It finds Scott locking up his bike at the front of the school, and doesn't notice anything unusual when Scott is a bit distant in their conversation.  Allison's parents had gone out of town that weekend too, and Scott always gets a bit moody when he has a lot of one-on-one time with her and then suddenly gets cut off.

While that's true, it's not why Scott is being distant on this particular occasion; as a matter of fact, he's been distant towards _everyone_ for the past few days.  His mother, working two night shifts in a row for time-and-a-half pay, wasn't there to see it, and while neither commented, both his boss and his girlfriend noticed how distracted he was.  Allison assumed it was school related, and Dr. Deaton that it was pack related.

Really, Scott spent the weekend debating with himself about Stiles.  He nearly convinced himself he was just imagining things twice, and the argument got a little off-track at times, but it always managed to circle down to the same basic ideas.

 _He has been acting a little weird,_ one side of Scott would argue.  _Clumsier, and then when he apologizes his heartbeat gets a little weird_.

 _Stiles always gets like that when he thinks people might hurt him_ , another side would insist.  _It's just nerves_.

 _Okay, but then how do you explain the weird sulfur smell?  Because every time his heartbeat goes funny, that smell gets stronger._   The defensive side of him would go silent here, because Scott can't explain that.  He did an [internet search](https://www.google.com/search?q=what+does+it+mean+if+your+friend+smells+like+sulfur%3F&rls=com.microsoft:en-us&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&startIndex=&startPage=1) on the topic that turned up a lot of weird and gross things, but none of it seems to apply to Stiles.  He's planning on going over to Stiles's house after school today, just to make sure it's not something in the water, but that wouldn't explain why the strength of the smell could change during school.

And now that he's looking for it, there is something really weird about the way Stiles is acting.  It's nothing obvious, just little changes in Stiles's behavior, like that weird clumsiness.  There's something different in the way he walks.  He's stopped needing to copy Scott's homework for Spanish class, he doesn't add way too much salt and pepper to cafeteria food anymore, and he isn't hinting that Scott should try to get along with the pack.  It's little things, things that nearly make sense for Stiles to do, that he'd probably have an explanation for if Scott asked.  And he wouldn't have noticed something was up if it was just one or two of them, but it's a _bunch_ of little things, and they're adding up in the back of Scott's head to something being seriously wrong.

In an act of genuine cleverness for Scott, he doesn't let on that he suspects.  Sure, if he's wrong, Stiles'll be kind of insulted and probably not talk to him for a few days, but if he's right... then whatever Stiles is now, or whatever replaced him, someone needs to keep an eye on him.  And Scott can't do that if Stiles finds out that he knows.

Not that he knows anything for sure.  He just suspects, and spends a lot of that week watching Stiles and making a list in his head of questions to ask... to ask who?  He usually goes to Stiles for these kinds of questions, but that obviously isn't an option right now.

Allison?  There could be something in her grandfather's bestiary, but that thing's _huge_ , it could take _years_ to find the right thing.

Derek?  He knew what the kanima was, but only from stories.  He didn't actually know anything _about_ it, and meeting with him would be harder to do without Stiles noticing.

Maybe Dr. Deaton would know.  He knows a lot about werewolves for a veterinarian.  He doesn't have work until Thursday, though, and to ask for extra time would probably look suspicious.  So Scott bides his time, sniffing faucets in the Stilinski's bathroom and racking up a lot of strange search engine queries in his internet history, and come Thursday he heads to work with a lot of questions buzzing around in his head.

This leaves Stiles with no one to explain his location to until early Friday morning when the sheriff gets off duty.  The thing walking around in Stiles's body decides this is an excellent opportunity to do some investigating into the local supernatural tug-of-war, to get an idea of which side it can best take advantage of, along with when and how.

Derek showing up in his room throws a wrench in those plans.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finds out.

Derek, for his part, has been annoyed and confused by Stiles's sudden shift in behavior.  Not that he's ever considered them _friends_ , but there's an understanding between them, that they're better off working together than at odds, no matter what kind of danger that may put them in.

At least, he thought there was an understanding.

He's been trying to wait Stiles out, as Scott implied he should do when he first delivered the news that Stiles wanted nothing to do with him. (Apparently there's some precedent in their friendship for this sort of behavior.) But it's been two weeks, and the full moon is fast approaching, and Derek needs to know where they stand.

He's already keyed up, trying to develop a plan for the full moon in case Stiles is really serious about being left alone, so when Stiles walks into the room smelling _wrong_ , Derek doesn't think.  He acts.

"Whoa, Derek!  Man, I thought we were past this," the thing pretending to be Stiles says with a weak laugh, leaning further into the door to get away from Derek's fast growing canines.

"I don't know what you are," he growls, "and I don't care.  What did you do with Stiles?"

"Derek, I don't know what you're - "

Derek cuts it off with a sharp, " _Don't_.  You might be able to fool the others, but I was born into this.  I know what people can smell like, and you don't smell _human_."  They stare each other down for a long moment, a pair of monsters sizing each other up, until it realizes he isn't bluffing.  In the blink of an eye the whole mood of the room shifts as the thing's eyes, whites and all, turn pitch black.  Derek recoils, and they flicker back to Stiles's ordinary, human brown as the creature stretches out and up, a confident threat in its posture Stiles has never had.

"Ah, well," it says with a wide, sly grin. "Guess the jig is up.  I was hoping for more time to work in secret, but..." A calculating gleam enters its eyes as it reconsiders.  "Well, who says I have to stop?"  It cocks its head to one side and scoffs, "Certainly not you, mister _sour wolf_."

"If you don't tell me where he is," Derek threatens, but his heart's not in it.  The emphasis the thing placed on "sour wolf" makes him sure it must have been intended to taunt him.  To what end, though?  It's a stupid name Stiles called him _once_ , it doesn't actually mean anything.

...but how did it even know that name?

"Oh," it laughs.  " _Oh_ , this is too rich.  _You don't get it_.  Even standing right in front of me, you still don't get it!"  It spreads its arms wide, showing off the body it's... not mimicking, Derek realizes abruptly, horrified.  Confirming his suspicions, the thing grins, saying, "Stiles hasn't gone anywhere, Derek.  He's right here!"

Possessed.  Dear god.

"Get out of him," he growls, shoving it back against the door, "or I'll rip you out myself."

It laughs, long and low.  "And how're you going to do that?"  It breaks his grip with two fingers, brushing off his superhuman strength like it's nothing.  The message rings loud and clear: you can't hold me.  You can't stop me.  And if it ever looks like things might be otherwise, it's only because I'm _letting_ you.

Derek steps back, swallowing convulsively, suddenly unable to speak.

"Oh, look at you," the creature breathes, a perverse glee lighting up Stiles's face.  "So _scared_.  And to think Stiles actually thought you could save him."  Leaning in too close, mockingly straightening Derek's jacket the way Stiles did once, it adds, "But let's be real, here.  You can't even save _yourself_ , let alone your little pack."  The grip on his jacket tightens, and Derek can't stop from being tugged in, forced nose to nose with this creature inside Stiles, choking on the rotten egg stench it gives off.  "And, just to make sure _you_ understand where _we_ stand?  If you so much as breathe a word of me to _anyone_ , I'll gut Stiles where _he_ stands."

A choked sound forces its way out of Derek's throat.

The creature grins again, delighted at the pain it's inflicting.  "I don't need the body whole to use it, you see.  Hell, you could bleed him dry and I'd still keep him walking.  But then the moment I'm done here, the _second_ I leave?  He'd drop dead.  So if you want him safe, you'll keep your pretty mouth shut.

"Do I make myself clear?" it breathes, whisper-soft, inches from Derek's face.

Shaking, Derek nods.

" _Good_."  The creature pats his cheek once, twice, and for a moment Derek wants nothing more than to _kill_ it, to rip its throat out and gut it with his claws and make it _hurt_ , but that's not just a monster in there, it's Stiles too, and he _can't_ -

Turning one last pat into a slap, it shoves Derek towards the open window. "Now get out of here.  I've got things to do that I don't need a puppy dog like you spoiling."

Derek doesn't stop running until he's halfway to his house, breathing hard enough that he can pretend it's the adrenaline making him shake and not pure terror.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing possessing Stiles forms a plan; Scott talks to Dr. Deaton.

The creature possessing Stiles waits until Derek has vanished into the trees before leaning back against the door and sighing.  This is _not_ something it had planned for, not this early on.  From what it pulled out of Stiles's head, Derek should have been fine leaving well enough alone; the two of them have gone long stretches without interacting before.  Either Stiles doesn't know Derek as well as he thinks, or something else prompted this meeting.  Now what could...

A glance out the window offers an answer: the bright gleam of the waxing gibbous moon hovering overhead.

The corner of Stiles's mouth twitches, then curls into a wide, wicked grin full of bad intentions.  Oh, that could be fun.  Not this time, though.  A handful of days isn't nearly enough time to find a good target.  _Next_ month, on the other hand... well. I don't think it's revealing too much to say that if everything goes according to plan (which, for the most part, it will) the next full moon is going to be _very_ interesting.

So that's the when of its plan taken care of.  Now it just needs the who, and the how.  Sinking into Stiles's desk chair, it logs on to his computer and starts making a list, cross-referencing what it's learned from Stiles's memories with what it can find online.

With only the glow of the computer monitor and the moon outside to illuminate it, Stiles's skin is practically monochrome, a study of the grays found in shadows and light.  The creature possessing him takes a moment to admire the way the light flickers against his skin as it types, and has to resist the urge to brighten up the picture with a splash of red.

It wouldn't do to kill the host now that he's a proper hostage.

Under the light of the same moon, on the other side of town, Scott lobs one last bag of trash and animal refuse into the dumpster behind the veterinary clinic.  He grimaces as he lets the lid fall shut; after hours clean up has never been his favorite part of the job, even less so since becoming a werewolf enhanced his sense of smell.  It's no better inside the clinic, the conflicting scents making all the cages smell like a dozen different animals' territory.  If it smells like this to them, it's no wonder pets never like going to the vet.

Scratching his nose absently, a habit Scott's learned to help block some of the foreign scents, he goes back inside the clinic, locking the back door behind him.  Dr. Deaton is locking up the last of the pets staying overnight, but Scott knows he could have been done an hour ago.  He stands in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck.  He wishes he knew the right thing to say, how to ask this question without sounding dumb, and he's really grateful to Deaton for not pushing even though it's been obvious all evening that he has something to ask.

Deaton locks one last door and looks up at Scott from where he's squatting in front of the cage.  He cocks his head to one side expectantly.  "Yes, Scott?"

Scott averts his eyes.  "I - this may sound really stupid, but I was wondering... is there any reason somebody might smell like sulfur?"

Deaton frowns, considering this, and stands up.  "Sulfur?  Well, sometimes there can be problems with your water heater or a gas leak..." Scott sighs, and Deaton grins, shaking his head. "But I'm guessing by the look on your face that's not the kind of answer you're looking for."

"I already checked his house, and _it_ doesn't smell like sulfur, it's just him!"

"Him?"

"Stiles."

"Stiles," Deaton repeats absently.  He looks thoughtful, but it's not a searching for an answer kind, it's the kind where you've got an idea and you're trying to figure out if it's the right one.  Scott hopes that's a good sign.  "Would you say that, aside from the sulfur smell, Stiles has been... different, lately?"

"A little bit?"  Scott wrinkles his nose, trying to find the right way to explain it.  "Like, not anything big?  Just, sometimes he's a little clumsier, walks a little different, things like that."

"But generally, he's behaving the same."

"Yeah."  Scott waits for Deaton to elaborate, and when he doesn't, asks, "Why, does that mean something?"

"It might," Deaton says hesitantly.  He walks out into the waiting room and finds a pad of paper.  He scrawls something on the top sheet and tears it off, handing it to Scott.  "This book should have the information you need."

Scott's face falls.  "A book?  You can't - ?"

"Not definitively.  There are a number of things that could be happening here, Scott, and I'm not prepared for most of them," Deaton says, careful with his words as always.  "I _can_ be, if you give me time to get some materials."

"Okay."  Scott heads for the exit, but turns around to ask, "So where can I find this book?"  He squints at the long title.  " _A complete treatise on the habits and characteristics of supernatural beings and beasts of North America_."  He looks up at Deaton helplessly.  "Seriously?  That doesn't sound like something you can order off Amazon."

"You never know what you'll find at your local library," Deaton quips.  "If it's not there, one of the used bookstores in town might have it."  Nodding, Scott turns again to leave.  "And Scott?" Deaton calls after him.  "Make sure Stiles doesn't know you're looking into this."

"He won't," Scott promises before heading out into the cool night air.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles does something to piss off his passenger.

Now, I'm sure you're wondering what's going to happen next.  Derek knows that Stiles has been possessed, Scott suspects the same, and he's investigating a lead on how to stop the creature!  You're worried, I bet, but you have faith in your heroes.  Surely, you think, it's only a matter of time now before one or both of them destroys the creature and saves Stiles.

You would, of course, be completely wrong about that.  Stiles does get saved, don't worry - though you knew that from the start - but things won't be wrapped up quite so neatly.  The treatise Scott is looking for won't be as easy to find as he thinks, not with Derek and the Argents looking for it too.  Even once he finds the book, it's going to be hard to identify the right creature based off only his own observations, to say nothing of the fire damage to the text, destroying or obscuring most of the information he needs.

And it won't help that the creature they're dealing with is hard to kill, incredibly clever, and _very_ motivated to succeed.  It's also got a twisted sense of humor, which Stiles is being subjected to now that Derek knows more than ever.

We've already discussed just what those first two weeks were like for Stiles - you remember our little thought experiment, don't you? - and now that that time has passed in the story, I think it's high time you got reacquainted with Stiles's... situation.

You see, when Derek popped up in Stiles's room and immediately confronted the creature possessing Stiles, Stiles did something that creature just can _not_ let stand.

He had hope.

Despite all the pain, the incessant emotional torture, the constant stabs and attacks on his weak points, the confirmation of all his insecurities and doubts, and the threats on the lives of everyone important to him - despite all of that, the moment someone realized that something was wrong, _Stiles had hope_.  He _believed_ , for one lingering moment, that everything would be okay.  That Derek would somehow, in some way, manage to save him.

And that means that the creature failed to break Stiles.

And _that_ \- that is just embarrassing.

So, from the moment it finishes concocting its plan and has the effort available to fully concentrate on Stiles until the night its plan comes to fruition, a little over a month, all told, the creature puts its heart and soul (figuratively speaking) into really, properly, completely destroying Stiles's mind.

Part of that effort involves some of the old tricks, tormenting Stiles the same way it did before, but changing up some of the smaller details.  It stops using a bully's voice and starts making things more personal.  You see, while it would hurt Stiles to hear that he had gotten his mother killed from _anyone_ , it turns out that it hurts worst coming straight from her.

Only a fraction of the time is spent on those tactics, though.  Since they were clearly so ineffective before, the creature has to pull out some alternative methods.  Hours upon hours of indescribable pain had been dismissed previously as dull and unimaginative, but upon reflection, it decides that they're worthwhile additions to the program.  Stiles is used to _emotional_ pain, after all; the physical is new, foreign, and hurts all the more for it.

And then, of course, there's the times when it gets _really_ creative.  Like the time it builds up a realistic fantasy for Stiles, in which he's been saved, everyone else is safe too, and everything's fine... only for him to lose control of his body from the neck down.  So while he's still conscious and able to speak, Stiles can only watch as his arm stabs and stabs and _stabs_ until Scott finally stops twitching, can only cry for help as he wrings his father's neck, can only apologize desperately as he burns Derek alive and then holds his head underwater just to make sure he's dead.

It takes a little more effort to put this kind of detailed work in, and the creature knows that its impersonation of Stiles is getting a little less convincing because of it, but the fact that Stiles managed to resist, somewhere deep down, for _two weeks_?  Well, that just pisses it off so much that it's willing to put in that kind of effort, damn the consequences.  And really, what's the risk of someone dangerous noticing something off with Stiles compared to the sheer joy that would come from utterly shattering him?

Oh, the irony in those words.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek comes up with a plan.

Let's put Stiles aside for now.  Although his torment is terrible, and I'm sure any number of you out there are reading primarily to see how he manages (along with a slightly lesser number reading to see how he doesn't), he won't be terribly relevant to the action for some time yet.  Unlike, say, Derek.

Derek, who we last saw running away with his metaphoric tail tucked between his legs, is racking his mind for an answer to the obvious question: just _what_ is possessing Stiles?  Because unlike the kanima, a creature Derek only heard of in fables about the dangers of turning the wrong humans, Derek knows plenty about possession.  It's a werewolf's worst nightmare: losing the control so vital to life, being turned against your family, against your _pack_.  Werewolves fear it, so they've made the effort to protect themselves against it, to prepare themselves for it.

The problem is, there are _so_ many different things that can possess you, and each one has to be removed in a different way.

The reek of Axe covered up a lot of the creature's scent.  Not so much that Derek couldn't see it for what it isn't (human), but enough to make identifying what it _is_ difficult.  And those eyes... they remind Derek of Nietzsche, of monsters lurking in the darkest shadow of the abyss, gazing back.

And he can't remember any of the stories referencing something like that.

He never paid much attention to the finer details, though.  When he was a kid he only cared about the scary way his cousins told the stories, circled around a campfire during the new moon.  Later, he was "too old" for fairy tales, and after that... well.  He didn't have much of anyone to tell the stories to him, and Laura didn't remember how they went any better than he did.

So there might be a story about this creature that's taken over Stiles's body.  And if there is, it would have been transcribed; one of Derek's aunts was obsessed with keeping records for the pack, despite his grandparents' fears about humans coming across them.  She loved finding ways around that.  Making up the more boring titles, writing like it was fiction, things like that.

Derek hasn't thought about her in years, or her books.

Loss hits him like a punch in the gut: suddenly, stealing his breath and leaving him gasping.  No matter how many times it's happened before, the pain is still overwhelming.  He shudders, feels claws coming out against his will.  It's too close to the full moon for him to be letting something overpower his anger, he tells himself.

His pack needs him in control.

So does Stiles.

Problem solved, he lets his thoughts return to the books.  His memory of the days leading up to the funeral is something of a blur, but he knows _some_ of the books survived the fire.  They intended to leave town once they had Peter settled at the long-term care facility and the rest of their family safely in the ground, so he and Laura had to sort through what was left of their possessions to pick what was kept and what wasn't.  Books would only get in the way on the road, but that didn't mean they should be thrown out.  He remembers agreeing with Laura to donate them... somewhere.

The library, maybe?

It's better than nothing, however small the odds are that the right book even exists, let alone survived the fire.  Derek can't let himself think about just how small those odds are, though.  Odds are even smaller that he'll be able to use that book to help Stiles.  Stiles, who actually thought Derek could -

No.  Thoughts like that are not helping.

Forcing his claws to retract again, Derek starts making a plan to search for his aunt's books without raising suspicions.  It won't be easy.  He can't tell his pack why he needs the book without giving the creature reason enough to kill Stiles, and they aren't so easygoing about not getting answers these days.  But he can't just walk into the library himself, not unless he wants the Argents getting wind of the situation.  He doesn't want to think about what they'd do to Stiles to destroy that thing.

(Not that he has any moral high ground there; _he_ wants it destroyed too, but has no proof that it's actually killed anyone, which is his usual way of determining which monsters live and which die.)

But if he can't go, and he can't make his pack go, what other option does he have?  Breaking into the library?  It's not like he can find out if they have the books without going there.

...wait.  Yes he can.  The library has a website.

Derek groans.  The closest thing to a computer he's used successfully in years is a cellphone, and only because New York was near impossible to live in without one.  There's a reason he doesn't use computers, and it's not because he's a werewolf or a Luddite; he's just _bad_ with them.  He doesn't own one, doesn't know where to find one, or what to do with it if he even _got_ one.

He usually threatens Stiles until he does the research for him.

Obviously, that's not an option now.

Who does he know besides Stiles that's good with computers?  Someone he can just give something to for the information, who won't ask questions, who won't inadvertently tell hunters about "former murder suspect Derek Hale" asking them for help...

Now that he thinks about it, Derek _does_ know someone who fits that description.  With any luck he'll accept payment that isn't shirtlessness this time, though Derek doesn't know what else he can offer Danny.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek gets Danny's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempting to keep canon-compliant while writing characters you're not confident with and packing up your apartment for a long distance move apparently leads to a month between updates. Sorry!

The full moon goes surprisingly smoothly, given how young and unanchored most of Derek's pack is.  Things get rough, but he manages, all the while feeling like there's something he's not seeing here, not including all the things he already knows he's not seeing entirely.  Like whatever the Argents are up to that's keeping them so quiet.  Like Jackson, Lydia.  Deaton and that associate of his.  Scott.  Whatever that thing is possessing Stiles.  What it's doing here, or what it wants to do here.

Sitting in a Starbucks four towns over the next day and considering this not insubstantial list of concerns, Derek sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.  Laura used to tell him not to borrow trouble, and it seems he still hasn't managed to take that advice.

Take the person approaching him now, who's sure to become a new complication.

"Miguel, right?"

Derek finds himself snorting a laugh at the skepticism in Danny's voice.  He raises an eyebrow at the kid and says, "Don't tell me you actually believed I was Stiles's cousin."

Danny grins.  "Hardly.  But it was easier to go along with it than ask questions."

"That's a smart philosophy to have."  Derek gestures to the seat next to him and Danny takes it, setting up his laptop without a word from Derek.  Derek watches him warily.  As previously established, he's hardly an expert - his one attempt to use Peter's laptop after his death ended in something important shorting out, and all he did was press a few buttons - but he's fairly certain surrounding computers with hot beverages is a bad idea.

Although, he reconsiders, if the number of twenty-somethings in this coffee shop doing the same thing is anything to go by, it must be considered an acceptable risk.  God, but he's glad he's never needed caffeine.

As his computer boots up, Danny wonders absently, "Why are we doing this twenty miles out of town, though?  Stiles's house worked fine last time, and we still share a class."

Derek goes still, a calm facade on his face as he tries to find a way to explain that won't rouse suspicion.  "Stiles can't know you've helped me," he says at last, his tone brokering no argument.  "He doesn't know about this."

Danny looks at him out of the corner of his eye, eventually nodding his acquiescence when Derek doesn't elaborate.  A few more clicks, and then: "Alright, what do you need?"

"No blackmail or bribes this time?" Derek asks, surprised.  And concerned.  This is going far too easily.

Danny shrugs.  "Blackmail didn't work before.  And it's not like I'd say no to your kind of bribe, but you weren't exactly enjoying it.  I don't get off on that.  Besides..."  He hesitates before adding, "You guys have been good for Jackson."

Derek's heartbeat thrums heavy in his ears for a moment.  He knows his pack is hardly subtle, but if the one person Jackson has been trying to keep out of things has found out... "I thought you said you weren't asking questions," he manages, sounding fairly calm to his ears.

"I have eyes," Danny says.  "Jackson started getting back to normal right around the time he started having tons of private conversations with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd.  Who've been seen hanging around with you.  I haven't asked him anything; I haven't needed to."  Tapping meaningfully at his computer, he says, "Now, what do _you_ need?"

Derek sighs.  Jackson isn't going to like this.  And that's just borrowing trouble again, he thinks, and forces himself to put aside those concerns for the moment.  "I need to find a book.  Written by Kathryn Hale."  Danny stares at Derek for a moment, suddenly comprehending, but he doesn't say anything.  "I don't remember the title - something long, dull, and pretentious.  There's only one copy that I know of, and it was donated to the Beacon Hills library six years ago.  I need to know where it is now."

Danny taps between a few different programs.  "Not my usual thing, but if they've got online records from back then I can probably find it."  How exactly he does it goes entirely over Derek's head, but Danny determines that there's no book by Kathryn Hale in the library's current holdings.  From there, he manages to dig into a restricted portion of the site containing a partial record of past book sales, exchanges, and losses, including Kathryn's books.  What he discovers there, though, is troubling.

Because a few months ago, the high school requested twenty books be sent to their library.  The assortment appears completely random, but Derek suspects that the majority of the texts were a smokescreen, to hide the fact that the request contained every book donated by the Hale family.

He's not wrong.

Scott, when he visits the school library as part of his own investigation, discovers the same thing Danny's search will reveal: the book he's looking for was removed from circulation for "restoration purposes", not two days after Gerard Argent became the new school principal.

Which Scott decides means it's time for another dinner with the Argents.  But we'll get to that later.

For Derek, this news is just another frustrating dead end.  He barely remembers to thank Danny as he leaves, all but running to get away from this newest unnecessary mess.  The concerns he'd pushed to the side about Jackson are coming back now, along with half-baked plans for what to do next.  Maybe he could try to get Peter's laptop fixed, but how - ?

His feet and thoughts both come to an abrupt halt when Danny looks out the window and says the most inadvertently horrifying thing Derek could imagine right now:

"Is that Stiles?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Danny overhear a conversation.

Derek's staring out the window before he even realizes he's moved.  Sure enough, one of the thin figures standing in that alley across the street is Stiles, though how Danny recognized him so quickly is surprising, given how different he looks.  Gone is the plaid button-up/t-shirt combo Stiles so often favors, replaced by something leather and black more likely to be worn by a werewolf, at least those found around Beacon Hills.  On Stiles it should make him look gangly and pale, but the way the thing possessing him holds itself gives him a subtly threatening quality.

He looks dangerous.

He looks like a _predator_ , and that thought unsettles Derek more than anything else.  It hasn't been so long since he confronted the creature that he's forgotten how easily it overwhelmed him, but time had distanced him from how much it scared him.  He remembers now.

"I thought you said he didn't know about this," Danny says quietly.  And then, before Derek can spin even a half-decent lie, he asks, "What's wrong with him?"

What's wrong is that here, so far from everyone Stiles knows, the creature feels free to drop the pretense of being Stiles.  It's easier to do its work that way, as well as being more fun. (To say nothing of how much more energy it can devote to punishing Stiles when it isn't distracted by the performance.) It's no surprise that Danny's noticed, but right now Derek really wishes he hadn't.

He backs away from the window, tugging Danny with him.  They're lucky it's been distracted by the other person in the alley - a gaunt, desperate-looking man who appears thirty but could easily be five, ten years younger.  If that thing sees Derek here, if it thinks he's told someone, or is trying to interfere, then Stiles -

No.  Derek breathes in slowly, forcing himself to calm down.  No point in thinking about that.  He sits down at a table against the wall, out of view of the street but close enough to overhear if he focuses... and then he feels an expectant gaze focused on him, and remembers that Danny is still standing there.

"What's wrong with him?" he repeats when Derek looks up.

"You said you weren't asking questions," Derek begins, before Danny cuts him off with a sharp, "Yeah, well that was before this started looking like what happened the night Jackson was declared _clinically dead_."

The volume gets a few curious eyes looking their way, and Derek is momentarily reminded of Stiles a few months ago, in his face and refusing to back down and generally making Derek feel like he had no other choice than to literally twist his arm to get him to do anything helpful.  He tries to resist that violent impulse with humans, but right now - right now he grabs Danny by the arm and pulls him into the seat next to him.  The kid looks alarmed by his strength, and Derek just knows he'll regret this later, but.

"If you really want answers, sit there and shut up," Derek hisses.  "If you don't, get out of here, now, and don't tell Stiles _anything_ , not even that you saw him today."

Danny considers him, expression still a little shaken, and stands up.  Derek nearly breathes a sigh of relief before he realizes that Danny isn't leaving, but getting a refill for his coffee.  He hands it to Derek and pulls out his laptop again.  "You need a reason to be sitting here," he whispers.  "They don't just let people loiter."

Derek does sigh then.  Shutting his eyes, he does his best to tune out the white noise of coffee shop chatter and main street traffic, letting his senses focus on the almost-yet-not familiar quality of Stiles, twisted ever so slightly by the creature's presence in his body.  It's difficult - Stiles's scent was the most obvious difference by a wide margin, but the other changes make it hard to definitively identify Stiles from a distance - but he manages to hone in on the conversation.

" - and you'll take care of everything?" the man is asking, voice absolutely flooded with relief.

"Hey, no problem," the creature says, putting on a reassuring tone that is very much the sound of Stiles's least successful lies.  But who's to say what the tone means for this creature?  For all Derek knows, it's being entirely sincere.  "So long as you pay up."

The man's throat clicks as he swallows.  "I - I know standard is ten, but I was hoping, since it's such a small thing, maybe twenty?"

"Sorry, buddy," it says, a false warmth in its voice Derek is _sure_ is intentional this time.  "I'm not authorized to make those kinds of alterations.  It's ten or nothing."

"I - fine," the man says shakily.  "Ten."

They're both silent for a minute, but for a drawn out, wet, smacking sound.  The back of Derek's neck goes hot when he realizes what that sound implies, and he can't tell if it's from embarrassment or anger.

"Then it's a deal," the creature says pleasantly, and the sound of rapid footsteps marks the end of their conversation.  Their _transaction_ , apparently.

Framed in that context, the creature's pseudo-friendly behavior and false sympathy seem like the kind of tactics a used car salesman would implement.  Derek has to fight off a ridiculous, poorly timed urge to laugh.

This is good, though.  This is a lead.  Whatever that thing is, it's possessing Stiles to sell something to people - goods or services, Derek doesn't know just yet, but either way it's going to narrow things down for him.  That's good.

Danny coughs.  "So... what was that?"

This, on the other hand...


	11. a plot sum-up for anyone who still wonders how this fic would've gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearing out tumblr drafts, I found the draft that functioned as my WIP file for this monster. Figured I should toss it up here, give anyone who still follows this fic some sense of closure.
> 
> [/backdated b/c I don't wanna see this fic when I look at my ao3 dash, it's the wip that haunted me for years as it is]

wrt the finale? Let's say Peter and Gerard killed each other in an orgy of vengeance, and everything else is where the show left it, yeah?

derek goes away terrified, but with a lead - looks into deals, comes across soul-selling, eventually comes across the devil, demons, etc.

scott discovers the same thing when he actually visits the library! decides to ask the argents if they still have those books. and by "ask" he means "have another awkward dinner with to secretly look for the book." when he finds it, he realizes the kathryn hale listed as the author must be one of THOSE hales, decides to ask derek if he knows anything. their conversation is frustrating, both of them avoiding saying too much for fear of being wrong/leading to stiles's death

derek and scott's separate research into the same topic attracts the attention of the argents, who have connections with people who have the means to monitor that kind of shit (ash-alikes, to make a spn reference). 'now why are those werewolves looking into demons?' most figure derek's looking to make a deal - he's certainly lost enough, seems desperate enough - but chris suspects otherwise.

a conversation is had. derek is terrified - this is too close to revealing for stiles' safety, and he's not exactly trained in the ways of subterfuge like this, using words for his battles. so he says as little as possible, but chris infers enough to start his own investigation (though he doesn't know who he's investigating just yet). he also decides to go to scott, see why _he_ was looking.

meanwhile teen wolf-typical shenanigans are going on, and 'stiles' is keeping to the edge of all of it

it all comes to a head at some big hunter-wolf conflict. somebody dies, and stiles ("s/he's dead." silence, until: "and I think that's my cue!" - alternately, no one dies, and stiles, disappointed, is quick to change that. current mental image is 'slit allison's throat' but w/e's good.) is there to make an offer they wouldn't want to refuse. since it's revealed itself, derek feels okay leaping into action, pinning it down with full on alpha strength (or at least basically wolfed out). scott joins in when it becomes apparent that one wolf's strength isn't enough. chris attempts an exorcism, and for a second it looks like they're going to beat it, but "sorry, sweetheart," it chuckles, "but I'm a bit higher up the food chain than you're used to."

it offers up the deal again - going once, going twice - and derek cuts in. "I'll deal," he says. the demon's surprised; since when does derek care about a hunter's life? "not for them, for stiles." stiles? "you get out of him, you _stay_ out of him, stay away from him, this whole town." hefty request. and the offer? "you get me." _you_? sorry, sweetheart, but a werewolf's soul just doesn't go as far as a human's - hell cares more about stealing from heaven than from purgatory - "not just my soul, _me_. the body too." and ooh, but that's an interesting thought. can a demon even possess a werewolf? "bet you want to find out." it is tempting... alright, it's a deal. let's seal it. "where do I sign?" oh, you _are_ new to this, aren't you? they say 'sealed with a kiss' for a reason, you know. pucker up, wolfboy!

the kiss is also the demon transferring over, so it's a bit of a mess - appearing to be entirely one-sided on stiles side until, after a moment of shuddering, it's all on derek's. the demon pulls back, letting stiles fall semiconscious at its feet, and grins, looking at its brand new claws. "this is going to be fun." with that, it disappears.

END PART 1

stiles's recovery is a slow, slow process. he doesn't deal well with the dark, he can't go near jackson without freaking out, and he won't tell anyone what it's like. over the course of this fic, he comes to deal with those issues, and by the end he's back to fighting form. if still a little terrified of demons, and it isn't like that's not a totally justifiable fear

the argents are really quite inexperienced with demons; their family history is with werewolves, so that's what they've stuck to, and they're experts for it. but they were unprepared for that shifter, and they were unprepared for a demon.

but it promised derek it would stay away from beacon hills - haha, and? where there's one, there's more, and derek only made one promise. and now there's a demon out there wearing a werewolf, and we've got _no_ idea how to stop it, if any of the traditional methods will stop it. it was stupid of derek to do it, he's only put us in more danger. "he didn't do it for you. you heard him; he did it for stiles." because at some point he learned what the demon was doing to stiles in there, and decided he could handle that kind of pain, and that stiles couldn't. and shouldn't have to.

a bunch of the argents go out in search of a) demon hunters, b) the demon wearing derek. the demon, for its part, is enjoying the increased strength, speed, and senses, rubbing it in other demons' faces (because while having a body again is fun, it's also limiting). once that spree is over, it starts making deals again, and pushing the lines of its deal with derek. staying away from stiles and away from the whole town isn't as limiting as you'd think. for example: technically, hale house is outside the town limits. and from there, the demon can direct others to the town and all the desperate people living there.

like the werewolves. sure, they might not be as valuable soul-wise, they're all in a very vulnerable place right now, without their alpha. (scott tries to control them, but he can only do so much without the actual alpha powers.) and they all had their reasons for becoming werewolves in the first place. let's exploit that.

the details for this part are vague right now, but at some point we get to another showdown. this time? scott and the argents (and any other wolves remaining) versus the demons. the argents, having learned from professional demon hunters and exorcists all they could, have a pretty good set of traps. the demon in derek isn't affected by them, and wouldn't have been anyway, being as high up as it is. but it's limited by the body, and that limitation includes wolfsbane. (and also mountain ash? because i'm headcanoning that ash only works on the body - and despite appearances, stiles was still human. he just had an extra passenger.)

they incorporate wolfsbane into one final devil's trap, and when the demon presses against the weak points of the trap they shoot it in the arm with a wolfsbane loaded bullet. the demon may be able to stand the pain, but the body it's in is weakened, and it can't get past the wolfsbane in the trap. it's stuck. but it won't give up like the others, not when it's come this far.

and then scott, trying to convince it to just leave derek accidentally steps foot in the trap. the demon in derek takes advantage, switches bodies. allison freaks out, but stiles reassures her. ("remember that back up plan scott had?" the one you said was a bad plan? "yeah. this is it.") and sure enough, just as the demon is lecturing them on their carelessness and starts to shove its way out of the trap, it starts losing control. a second at a time, until their personalities start to switch. (this is impossible! you can't just "oh, yes I can. I'm a werewolf, I control something way stronger and way scarier than you every month." if a werewolf could've broken my control, derek would've done it weeks ago. "derek made a deal with you. he submitted. a wolf can't fight that. but I never let you have my body, you took it. and that means I can take it _back_.") and so he does, regaining control and ejecting the demon with great prejudice.

derek, in pain from the possession and the bullet, is confused as hell. it would've been easier to just kill them both, and scott hates him. why save him? "I couldn't let you die when you only did this to save stiles."

derek tries to deny it, make excuses, but scott isn't buying the lies. especially now that he's had the demon in his head, and all the knowledge about its previous hosts to go with it. he knows what to look for, in derek and stiles both.

...yeah I think this fic might just be flooded with derek/stiles ust that never actually gets anywhere. ah well.

END PART 2

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://gladdecease.tumblr.com/post/24883844904/sugarfreepopcorn-teen-wolf-au-i-dont-even) post on tumblr.


End file.
